


Eighty-Six

by Dr_Cat



Series: Like Minded [6]
Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Adventure, Diners, Gen, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Cat/pseuds/Dr_Cat
Summary: "Follow that Buick!"
Series: Like Minded [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642711
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Eighty-Six

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own nor have I come up with Knight Rider or the characters mentioned in this story. They were created Glen A. Larson and are copyrighted to NBC/Universal.

It was your usual roadside diner complete with chrome swivel stools hunkered under a well-worn bar counter, overstuffed coach seats huddled around salt n' pepper speckled tabletops and, large picture windows with a view of unencumbered afternoon traffic. It was nothing spectacular, but the Carousel Crown did boast the best burgers in town and that was reason enough for most people to stop by and, on this particular Saturday, the place was packed wall to wall. Customers were laughing, talking, and waiting on their lunches while the place's three waitresses scurried about the dining hall fetching drinks, jotting down orders, and bringing out food. The kitchen was abuzz; the head cook shouting out commands and the other two placing hot plates up on the counter for pick up. The joint was really hopping and everyone employed there was busy; all except one.

Jake was supposed to be taking out the trash, cleaning up tables, and sweeping out crumbs in the kitchen but, instead, he was in the men's restroom, huddled in a bathroom stall trying to pull himself together. He would be turning 18 in two months. This was his first job in weeks and he couldn't afford to lose it now, but what happened two hours ago had him literally shaking in fear. He had been witness to a murder and he was pretty sure the murderers knew it. Jake didn't know the men, didn't know why they were outside the bowling alley this morning or why one shot the other. All he knew was when the man with the checkered vest yelled 'Hey Kid', he ran.

He should have called the police and gotten help but was scared to. He already had some run-ins with the law not leaving him in good standing with the local authorities and he sure didn't want to appear connected to a crime like murder. This left Jake in a state of paralyzing fear. What if the killers came looking for him or what if someone had seen him running away from the scene? They might pin the murder on him. How was he going to get out of this?

He took in a shuddering breath. He couldn't hide in a bathroom stall for the rest of his life, no matter how tempting it sounded. He walked out of the men's room with all the courage he could muster and started back on his duties. Just when he reached for the broom, he noticed a man with a checkered vest sitting at the counter; the man in the checkered vest was sitting in his diner. Jake dropped the broom which drew the man's attention. Jake paled as the man's eyes narrowed on him. Frozen; he couldn't move his body, but his heart was racing. Finally, the man stood up. Jake ran.

"Eighty-six on the family reunion," a waitress called.

Jake went through the kitchen, pushing past a startled cook and an angry manager; out the back door, knocking over mop buckets and garbage cans; into the alleyway, tripping over some empty boxes and falling face-first to the ground beside my front right tire. Jake heard the heated footfalls behind and just had enough time to turn over as the man appeared around the corner of the alley. Jake tried to scramble to his feet, but nothing was working as the man approached quickly; one hand in his pocket, ready to produce a weapon.

Suddenly, I started up. Jake mustn't have remembered I was there and he certainly couldn't register what kind of car I was, but he saw the startled look on his pursuer's face and it eased his pounding heart. I revved the engine and inched forward threateningly. The man glared and pulled out a handgun, silencer, and all. He took aim at me then shifted his weapon towards Jake.

"Get out of the car or the kid dies right here," he barked stepping further into the secluded alley. I rumbled, the low tone of my powerful engine quivering Jake's heart before I shut it off. The man seemed to lower his guard as he waited for whoever was driving to come out. Jake must have felt like he was on pins and needles as his anxiety rose; not only was he in trouble but so was this complete stranger.

"Put your hands up!"

A shout from behind the gunman shocked them both. Jake didn't see anybody, but the man turned around all the same and I, the silent car to Jake's side, lunged forward, coming between him and an uncertain death. My passenger side door swung open to reveal my tan colored interior with a dashboard illuminated in lights and several buttons. However, what was more startling for Jake was the fact no one he could see was in the driver's seat. So how exactly did I move?

"Get in, now!"

Jake was startled when he heard my voice, the same voice behind his attacker emitted from the vehicle. I could read the questions on his face. Who said that? Was this some kind of trick? But then he heard the sound of gunfire and bullets ricochet off my body. Without further thought or question, the young man was up into the passenger seat, relieved when my door shut behind him to cocoon him in safety. Jake didn't seem to have the presence of mind to wonder how a car could deflect bullets, just happy that this one could, I suppose. He did watch in amazement as I pulled the car into gear and drove out of the alley, forcing our assailant aside.

"Michael, I had to blow my cover. I believe I have our witness with me, however."

The young man in the passenger seat was even more shocked to see that voice was coming from me, the talking car, or computer inside the car as it were.

"What's going on?!" he finally said around the lump in his throat. Judging by his vital signs, the young man seemed to be in the early stages of a panic attack. I needed to calm him down.

"Jake, everything's going to be okay now," I said in what I hoped was a soothing voice, "It's also okay to breathe now. That's right; deep, slow breaths."

He coughed once, twice, three times, and finally began breathing at a more regulated pace.

"What are you? Where are you taking me? Who's Michael?" he asked, clearly still expressing anxiety.

"In that order; I'm the Knight Industries Two Thousand, someplace safe and Michael is a friend; here he is now," I replied, stopping the car and swinging my driver's side door open. Michael climbed in quickly and assumed manual control after shutting the door. He turned towards our new guest and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Michael. Jake, right?"

"How do you know my name? What's going on!?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," my partner said off-handedly as we moved down the street.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on here and why the car is talking?!" Jake restated, rather rudely I might add. Given his position, however, it is understandable. Being shot at and quickly involved with a stranger and his car did seem to rattle the average human being's nerves.

"Sorry, Jake. We're here to get you off the hook. Didn't you see those two guys earlier," Michael asked in a laid-back manner. Well, he sounds considerably calm seeing as he was nearly killed only an hour ago. Obviously, Michael isn't your average human being which can be fairly troublesome when one is tasked with keeping him safe. Jake merely nodded and I felt I may have to give some background to clarify the situation.

"He was just shot at, Michael, by Ronald Nickerson. He's still in the alley behind that place you insist on calling an eating establishment."

"I'll bet you ten bucks Baker hired him," Michael said distastefully. He really hadn't liked the city commissioner and felt the man had to be in on all this. He'll be delighted to know his instincts were right.

"I'll raise you twenty if we don't find Baker with him," I said confidently.

"No . . . really?" Michael asked hopefully as a smile spread across his face.

"Oh, yes. But, Michael, he's leaving with Ronald in that grey sedan over there."

"Follow that Buick!"

* * *

_When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers. Proverbs 21:15_


End file.
